Destined
by Raquel Aratsume
Summary: Miami Davis is a new student at Mythos who meets the infamous Gwen Frost and Logan Quinn firsthand. As she becomes friends with them and engrosses herself in Mythos life, she realizes all is not as it seems, and with a new crop of Reapers hacking the academy's security sytems, is anyone safe in this so-called haven for descendants of the Parthenon?
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own any characters from the original Mythos Academy novels by Jennifer Estep. I own the characters I have created myself, and the plot. **

**Enjoy! :)**

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It was scary, entering the large gates, sphinxes stationed at every corner to ward off magical and mortal intruders. I gulp down my mixture of fear and anxiety, and enter the academy grounds. Tugging my peach wool coat closer to my shivering body, I drag my tote and suitcase further into the school grounds, my eyes flickering from building to building, trying to find my dorm. A slender, tall boy approaches me, his eyes mischievous yet friendly.

"You new?" He asks in a direct, short tone.

"Yes," I nod, my head bobbing quickly. "Do you know where the dorm buildings are?"

"Depends, sweetie," He smirks, chomping down on his gum. "What building are you in?"

"Valhalla Hall?" I offer, unsure of his reply.

"Ooh, a little rich girl?" He grins, showing off his sharp, almost blindingly white teeth. I shrug, not sure what his definition of "rich" was. To me, rich was having more money than we actually needed. My grandfather and I occupied a large historic Victorian home in New Orleans, and we had excess money we usually sent to the local orphanages and nunneries.

"I guess." I reply simply, my shoulders moving up, then down. "Want to show me where Valhalla Hall is?"

"Sure, as long as you do me a favor." He says seductively. "Go on a date with me?"

"If that's the deal, I think I'd rather just find the building on my own." I roll my eyes at him, and pick up my resting luggage.

"Oh, don't go yet." He pleads. "I don't even know your name!"

"Mia." I grin at him, although I still begin to step away from him.

"Well Mia, I'm Stewart, but if you need anything, let me know." Stewart waves as I walk off. "And be sure to stay away from those nasty Reapers! I'd hate for that pretty little head to be off that gorgeous body!"

I turn my head and smile at him one more time, then continue my walk. I eventually spot signs that pointed to the dorm buildings, one reading Valhalla Hall in fancy decorative script.

"Finally," I huff under my breath, pushing the door open with my free elbow. As the door opens a blond snarky-looking girl steps through, her head down and locked on her phone's screen. "Excuse me!"

She looks up at me, startled, a clipped apology spilling off her lips. "I'm _so_ sorry, I thought you were-"

"Its fine," I reply breathily, pushing past her to get inside. "Is the elevator at the end of the hall?"

"Yeah." She calls as she exits the building. I drag my bags and suitcases to the end of the long, brightly lit hallway, and manage to stab the up button with my pinkie finger. The elevator springs down quickly, a mob of blond and auburn heads exiting in a giggly rush.

"Ooh," One girl gapes, her eyes locked with mine. "Look what the ghetto dragged in."

I glared at her and enter the now empty elevator, my bags in tow. As the doors begin to close, an agile male body dodges inside. He flicked his long dark hair out of his tan face, his chocolate candy eyes glued to my own soft amber ones.

"Sorry, I'm on my way to my girlfriend's dorm, and she'll kill me if I'm late." He huffs breathily. I nod, understanding.

"Sweet how you're at least trying to be on time." I try to smile at him, but my lips are locked in a half smirk half frown. He smiles gently at me, and then turns away. "Who's your girlfriend?"

He looks at me, dumbstruck, as if of course I should know. "You new here?"

I nod quizzically.

"Gwen." He tries to smile. "Frost."

"Oh." I say, even though I don't know her. "What is she?"

"Gypsy." He laughs, as if it's funny. I look at him coolly, not seeing the amusement. "What are you?"

"A mixture. My father was a Celt, my mom an Amazon." I reply simply.

"Cool." He nods awkwardly. "I'm Logan, by the way."

"Mia." My name rolls off my tongue automatically, my voice sounding rigid and clipped. The elevator arrives on the second floor and I follow Logan out. "Nice meeting you." I call as I begin to unlock my door.

"See you around." He smiles, two dimples appearing on his cheeks. I pull my luggage into the bare room, a small bed propped against one wall, my white ornately carved wooden vanity and dresser also there. Grandfather must have had them shipped. I flip open my suitcase and begin shoving folded clothes into my dresser, each drawer for one season, top summer, next spring, then winter, and lastly fall. A sharp knock on my door startles me as I begin winter, and I spring up to answer it.

I pull the door open to see a pale, dark haired girl with Logan on her arm. "Hi," She gushes, smiling at me shyly. "I'm Gwen, and I just wanted to welcome you to Mythos. And this is Logan, but you've already met him."

"I'm Miami Davis, but you can call me Mia." I smile back at her, brushing my overgrown bob off of my shoulder. "It's really sweet of you to come up here."

"No problem." She replies simply. I stick out my hand for her to shake, but she eyes it, as if it'll hurt her.

"Sorry, Mia, no hand-shakes for Gwen." Logan says, patting my hand. I frown, not sure why.

"It's my Gypsy gift, touching people and things give me…visions, I guess you could say."

"And she just got back from a traumatic experience-"

"It's fine," I interrupt. "I understand." I'm not exactly one for sappy stories, long explanations, or anything that takes up too much of my time, which I guess is conceited as hell. Gwen nods at me, appreciating me not pressing her for information. "You don't need to explain anything to me."

"Thank you," She says breathily in relief. "I really appreciate that."

"It's no problem. I mean, treat others the way you'd want to be treated, or whatever, right?"

She smiles at this, and then looks at Logan lovingly. "Spartan, I've got to head to the library, or Nickamedes will kill me, and he just started acting nicer to me." She pecks him on the cheek quickly, which makes her eyelids shut for a brief moment. Gwen pops her eyes open just as quickly, and says goodbye to me before heading down the hallway.

"Now I've I met the infamous Gwen. She's a keeper, Logan." I grin at him. He nods, smiling back at me. "Her Gypsy gift seems complicated, though."

"We get through it," Logan remarks gently. I can't help but study the wistful, dreamy look in his eyes as he thinks of Gwen. It's as if they're meant to be.

"You must love her a lot." I say, happy yet a bit sad for the two of them. When could I have a love like that?

"Yeah, I guess I do." He murmurs quietly. I want to ask him if he's sure that he loves her, but I guess that would sound kind of jealous of me. Am I jealous? I'd hope to say no, because Gwen and Logan truly are adorable together, and I'd hate to separate them. But there's something about Logan that draws me to him, even if I don't want to. Logan stares at me, his eyes studying me curiously. "What about you, Mia? You have a boyfriend?"

"Had one." I shrug. "Cupid doesn't seem to care for me too much. Always get shot by the wrong archer."

He nods understandingly. "When did you split?"

"Before I left for Mythos, actually." I murmur, remembering Travis's stony, hurt, expression as our limo pulled out of the cobblestone driveway. I had turned around in my seat, and hadn't looked back. I suppose it had been for the better, my swift yet tearful goodbye to him, but he was unnerved, as if he'd known it would end like that. But he was, after all, a fortune teller's son, and he did know our future. I'm still confused why he didn't say that he knew we'd break up, but a part of me wants to believe he did it out of love. "We knew it wouldn't work."

"Oh." Logan mumbles, looking at his shoes. "Need some help moving in?"

"No, I've got it. Thanks though." I refuse politely, shaking my mangy bob.

"Ok, I guess I'll see you…later?"

I nod, smiling at him. "Later. Thanks, Logan."

He returns the nod, and turns to go. I begin to shut the door, but his voice draws me back to him. "My pleasure, Mia." His voice is steady, sweet, and kind. I smile at him once again, and shut the door gently. I turn around to face my bare room once again. Unzipping my tote, I pull out my three posters, a 2000's Coldplay, a newer Usher, and a Drake, each mounted on one wall. My Blackberry rings gently in my pocket, and I pull it out to see who's calling. My affectionate grandfather's face stares up at me; his wrinkly smile making my eyes water. Gosh, I miss him. I press the green "Talk" button, and answer, "Hey Grandfather."

"Miami, sweetheart. How was the drive in?" Grandfather's voice asks me kindly through the speaker.

"Not too bad, but it's much chillier up here than in Louisiana." I say simply. "I miss you so much already."

"And I you, my dear." He sighs. "Travis is still here, standing in the driveway."

"What!" I cry out, my body trembling. We'd left over four hours ago. "Is he alright?"

"Yes, dear, he's fine. He'd like to speak to you." Grandfather murmurs.

"Of course." I swallow a lump of anxiety rising in my throat, and take a deep breath.

"Mia?" Travis's voice croaks.

"Travis!" I say excitedly, my voice sounding high-pitched and squeaky, out of possible desperation. "How are you doing?"

"Fine." He says coolly. "You?"

"Fine." I repeat shortly. "I miss you."

"I miss you, too." He says softly. A tear begins to slide down my cheek, and I wipe it away quickly. "I'm sorry, Miami."

"About what?" I say angrily. "You don't need to be, I should be the one who's apologizing. Leaving like that..."

"But you had to." Travis murmurs. "You were looking out for the both of us."

"What are you saying?" I definitely hadn't been thinking of him when I said we couldn't be together. "I don't understand."

"I just want to say thank you. And that...that..."

"That what, Travis?"

"That I'll always be here for you. Ok?"

"Ok..." I don't really understand his meaning that he'll "always be there for me". But what if I don't need him to be there? I tuck the phone under my chin and finish unpacking. "Travis, I really am sorry about how I handled the situation when I left."

"Oh, Mia. You did us both a favor." Ok, ouch? That hurt. "I mean..."

"It's fine." I reply dismissively, but the ache is painful. "Now we can just be friends."

"What if I don't-" He begins, and then stops himself. "Met any cute guys at Mythos yet?"

"A few, but they're unavailable." I say simply. I can almost hear Travis sigh of relief, or am I playing with myself? "You?"

"It's only been four hours, Mia." Travis says playfully. "I mean really. I thought you'd at least give me a week before you asked that."

I laugh softly, smiling through my tears. "I must apologize for doubting you, Travis." I giggle.

He laughs gently, and murmurs, "Gosh, I miss you so much, Mia."

I sniffle for a moment, another round of tears spilling down my pink cheeks. When I don't respond, Travis's voice cries out, "Mia, am I upsetting you? Mia?"

"I'll survive." I whisper in reply. "It was sweet of you to call."

"Are you hanging up, Mia?" Travis's voice is hurt, and sounds farther and farther away.

"Soon." I sigh, leaning back on the uncovered mattress. "I have to go to the cafeteria for dinner."

"Oh." He mumbles, disappointed, maybe? "Well, I miss you."

"You said that like three times already."

"And you only said it once. We're _so_ not even."

"I miss you." I murmur gently. "I miss you."

"That's better."

"I better head to the cafeteria." I say breathily.

"Ok. I'll call you tomorrow."

"Ok. Love you." I say out of habit. After the doting farewell escapes my lips, I immediately regret it. I was the one who dumped him!

"Love you too." He says, as he's always done, and I hang up. We're a complicated mess, that's for sure.

I step out of Valhalla Hall cautiously, avoiding glances from the other students. I follow the mobs of students to the cafeteria and get a plate of an expensive looking part of a cow and some sort of sautéed veggies. Gwen waves me over, and I slide in across from her and Logan, who's stuffing a buttered roll into his mouth.

"Hey Mia." Gwen says kindly. I smile at her, and cut up my cow part with my knife.

Logan smiles at me, his eyes still twinkling mischievously. He swallows his mouthful of roll expertly, and begins to speak. "Hello Miami. How are you this evening?"

"Fine," I laugh. "And you?"

"Quite well, thank you." He chuckles, wrapping his arm around Gwen's shoulders. I feel my lips turn upwards at the affection, the casual yet sincere motion Travis used to do to me. Another bullet of sadness pierces my heart, and my eyes water. I manage to eat a few pieces of cow part, a few heads of what looks like broccoli, and half of a roll. Gwen excuses herself, pecking Logan on the cheek before she exits. Logan's face doesn't redden as Travis's used to, and stays calm.

"You alright, Mia?" Logan asks me.

"My boyfriend, well, I'm not sure what to call him, called me." I gush, wiping my hair out of my face.

"So...you're back together?"

"I really don't know. Does saying "Love you" mean you're in a relationship?"

"Not all the time." Logan shrugs.

"We always say that before we hang up, and it just slipped out of my mouth." I sigh.

"Did he say it back?" Logan asks studiously.

I nod in response. "It's what we always do...well did."

"You guys broke up like...today. I'd give it a week tops before he says anything."

I give it tomorrow. Knowing Travis, he'd call me as soon as he woke up, even if I wasn't awake. Instead of disagreeing with Logan, I nod, because arguing isn't worth a dime.

"Do you know what your schedule is yet?" Logan asks, peeling me away from my thoughts.

"No, I'm supposed to see Professor Metis about it. You know where her office is?" I ask him, resting my head in the palm of my hand. A yawn escapes from my lips, a loud obnoxious one. "Excuse me."

"Yeah, I'll show you tomorrow." He says, laughing at my yawn. "Sleepy?"

"Mmhm." I grunt, nodding, my hair bobbing with me. "I think I'll head back to my dorm." I balance my tray on one hand, and touch Logan's shoulder with the other. "Good night."

I feel his muscles tense, and immediately remove my hand. "Uh…good night."

I guess he's hands off, too, unless Gwen's the one touching him. I swallow another rising lump of sadness, and put my tray away, my head full of smiles, Travis's and Logan's. Used-to-be looks darted my way, smirks, grins, and playful expressions I used to get regularly. Is that how I'd end up with Logan? Awkward and emotional? It was hard enough with Travis.

Stepping out of the warm café and into the brisk late autumn breeze, I notice Gwen at the gates, her cell phone to her ear, but her voice is soft, adoring and gentle.

"Of course not." She croons, into the receiver. "I would never think that. I'll call you later; I have to get back to Logan." Gwen presses a button on her phone and shuts it, and then begins to stride back to the cafeteria.

I try to keep walking, to not wonder who she was talking about, because it's none of my business after all. As I enter Valhalla, my own phone rings, an old Harlem blues song playing softly, a quiet, sweet voice crooning, "_You and I, said goodbye, I thought I'd die…three hundred flowers_."

I pick up without hesitation, thinking, more or less knowing, Travis is on the other end. "Hi, Travis."

"Mia," His voice croons sweetly. I feel my heart skip a beat, and I immediately regret the sensation. I'm not supposed to feel love for the guy I dumped. "I'm sorry if I interrupted your dinner."

"You're fine; I was just getting into my dorm house, anyway." I murmur, pressing the up button on the elevator. "What's up?"

"I need to talk to you about us. Are we together or not together?"

"Well, do you think we can do this "long distance" thing? I don't want to start dating again and it's doomed from the beginning."

"I understand…but wouldn't you rather find out if it's doomed once we start dating again?" Travis says coolly.

"I don't know, Travis. I'd love to date you again, but we'd never see each other and…"

"We'd just have to trust each other." He murmurs, his voice crisp and sweet, dripping with raw emotion. Love, possibly? "Do you trust me, Miami?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks so much Azalea'banphrionsa! You gave me some awesome ideas, which I'll *hopefully* use :)**

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"I don't even know if I can trust myself." I choke, my voice stuck in my mix of anxiety and sadness.

"Well I trust you, Mia."

"But why?" I ask, frustrated. Why trust me, a girl who has no idea what she'll do next or why? Why trust me, a frazzled, unsure girl who has no idea where she's going? "Why trust me, Travis?"

"Because I love you, Mia. That's why." His voice is pure and gentle, and I almost swoon. This was the sweet, caring Travis I'd fallen in love with. I manage to step out of the elevator and enter my dorm room, its Pine Sol fragrance making me want to gag.

"I…" I stutter, afraid to put my heart on my sleeve as he always does. "I love you, Travis."

"Then that's settled," He sighs, relief seeping into his words. "I have to come visit you. When's your next break?"

"Seven weeks away," I pout, entering my dorm room. I shut the door with my free hand, and collapse on my twin bed. "What will we do 'till then?"

"Call. Text. Skype. You brought your laptop, right?"

"Yeah, but Grandfather said school use only." I frown, not wanting to misuse his gift.

"He'll make an exception. I mean, it's me, honey." Travis chuckles reassuringly. "I'll talk to him about it. Ok?"

"Ok. I better get to bed, I have classes in the morning."

"Right. Sweet dreams, love."

"G'night." I murmur wistfully, and end the call.

I change into my pajamas and shut my eyes, curling the thick cashmere blankets around my cold body. I dream of a dark, surrounding nothingness that consumes me, until all I am is nothing, too.

I awake to my buzzing alarm clock, my eyelids heavy and my head throbbing. Slamming my fist on the top of the clock to shut it off, I heave my aching body out of bed slowly, my eyelids drooping as I manage to look at my grimy reflection in the mirror. I look disheveled, with my hair tangled and knotted, and dark circles rimming my eyes. My fingers run through my thick, messy hair, and I dig around in my makeup bag for my brush. A huffy breath escapes me as I comb through my tangles, and then throw on a sheer dark t-shirt and ripped camo jeans. Donning my mother's Army dogtags and signature black fedora, I grab my purse and head down to the café for breakfast.

I stride down the marble hallway confidently, but stare as I pass a tall, porcelain-skinned brunette. Her long, silky brown hair is tied sweetly with a navy bow, and her outfit consists of a striped navy and yellow striped top and matching ruffled navy skirt. But resting on the edge of her nose sits a pair of heart-shaped red sunglasses, which conceal the nature of her eyes.

"Hello," She greets coolly, following me into the elevator.

"Um…hello." I respond, practically stammering my words. Her lips purse to form a neat, plump pink bow.

"Going to breakfast?" She asks politely. I nod, and flip out my phone to see three new messages from Travis. Damn. So much for "giving it a week".

**11:46pm You up?**

**4:38am Good morning love **

**4:53am I couldn't sleep last night . All your fault ;]**

Had he really been up all night thinking about me, more or less us? I definitely hadn't. With a sharp _ding_, the elevator releases us onto the ground floor of the dorm house.

"I'm Louise, by the way." The brunette chimes as we leave the stuffy metal box.

"Mia," I reply with a shrug. "I guess I'll see you later…"

"Yeah…" Louise says awkwardly. "See you."

I dart out of the dorm building hurriedly, unsure what to make of that awkward conversation and equally awkward new acquaintance. I stride towards the café, noticing the same group of bobble-headed blondes and reds sitting on a long stone bench outside of it.

One taller girl wearing an expensive looking dark blouse and mint pencil skirt smirks at me crudely, and flips her curled auburn hair off of her shoulder.

"Ohmygosh, Abby," Another blonde girl gapes. "Look at the new girl."

"I hear she's from Louisiana," The tall red-head replies, her eyes locked with mine. I continue walking, and don't stop, because I don't want to hear the petty things they have to say about me.

The café is busy as I enter the double doors, but I spot a cuddling Gwen and Logan easily. I grab a meager bowl of sappy oatmeal and a glass of orange juice, and slide in across from the couple.

"Morning, lovebirds." I croon happily.

Gwen blushes a bit, but Logan sweetly replies, "How you doing?"

"We're back together," I admit, shrugging. "He actually did call me last night."

Logan shrugs in response as I shovel a scoop of oatmeal into my mouth. The soggy oatmeal flakes melt as they meet my tongue, and I swallow the lump of grain quickly, hating the tastelessness.

"Who's your first period?" Gwen asks politely.

"Um…I'm not sure. Logan said he'd take me to Professor Metis's office to get my schedule."

"Okay," Gwen replies, her voice cracking a bit. Is she upset I'll be alone with her boyfriend?

"Do you want to come, too?" I offer. "I'll need all the direction skills I can get."

"I'd love to, but if I'm late again to Mrs. Rotini's, I'll be in some serious trouble." She laughs, grinning at me.

I laugh softly at this, and drain the rest of my orange juice. "Oh, I need to ask you two," I begin. "What the deal is with that little clique of blonde and auburn bimbos?"

Gwen guffaws loudly at this, making the rest of the café's occupants stare at us grudgingly.

"They're the rich skanks." Gwen smirks. "Always acting like they're better than everyone else just because they wear pearls and diamond earrings and sleep with twelve guys every week."

I snort at her comment, which causes another round of glances from across the room.

"Is everyone here snooty like those..." I let my words trail off as my eyes meet with Louise's. She's sitting with them. The auburn that was glaring at me earlier is seated beside her, and is whispering in her ear while grinning manically.

"Not everyone." Gwen nods, and takes a small bite of her blueberry muffin. "Most, like them, just crave attention 24/7."

"Or guys staring at them 24/7." Logan adds, smirking.

"So what's the best group of people to hang out with?" I ask bluntly before hastily adding, "Besides you two."

"It depends on your interests, really. What are your hobbies?"

"Um, I'm pretty good at sword-fighting and track and field. Grandfather gave me botany and herbal lessons, clarinet lessons, and also a few in sculpting." I shrug.

"Well, you'd do fine with the Amazons, but they might pick on you because you're…" Logan trails, blushing.

"Half and half?" I supply playfully. "Coffee and cream?"

Gwen chuckles at this, and replies, "If you're as funny as you are now, they'll definitely take you in."


	3. Chapter 3

Logan nods slightly in agreement, and asks Gwen, "When are Daph and Carson due back?"

"Early next week, I think," She murmurs, glancing at me. "My friend Daphne and her boyfriend Carson are on vacation visiting Daphne's aunt in Washington, but they should be back soon."

"What are they?" I ask, trying to say it as politely as possible. It sounds almost racist, in my opinion, if you think about it.

"Daphne's a Valkyrie with a mad healing power, and Carson's a Celt." Gwen replies, smiling at the thought of them. "Daphne's my best friend."

"Cool," I murmur, trying not to be awkward. "They sound like my kind of people."

"You'll love them." She says happily. Was Daphne her best friend or her _only_ friend? It was nicer to assume she had more than just Daphne and her boyfriend, but from the way she spoke so positively about her made me think otherwise.

"Mia, we better get going, cause first period starts at seven thirty." says Logan. I nod, and stand up politely, my tray in hand.

"Thanks for the talk," I smile. Gwen smiles back and replies, "No problem. Good luck!"

Logan pecks her on the cheek, and we embark on our trek to Professor Metis's office.

Logan leads me down the clean, dimly lit hallway, and stops at what appears to be a small classroom. "Here we are," He chimes, knocking on the cedar door loudly.

A petite yet authoritative- looking woman opens it almost immediately, and smiles at us politely. "Good morning, Mr. Quinn. Can I help you with anything?"

"Uh, yes." He replies, running his fingers through his course dark hair. "Miami here needs her schedule."

"MiamiDavis?" She gapes, then smiles at me primly. "Pleased to meet you, I'm Professor Metis."

"Nice to meet you, too," I reply, forcing myself to return her smile.

"Your schedule…" She trails, raising her palm to her chin. "Oh yes, it's in my file cabinet under your name." Metis steps into her office for a moment, and then returns to the door, my schedule in hand.

"You're with me in Mythology for first period." She smiles.

"Great," I pretend to exclaim. "Thanks."

"No problem." Metis replies chirpily. I flash her another fake smile, and drag Logan back down the hallway.

"I get the feeling you don't like her?" He murmurs. I shoot him a _Duh? _look and continue walking. "Metis is cool. What's your problem?"

I scowl at this, but am unsure what I truly despise. "She reminds me of someone," I reply tartly. But I don't even know who. Something about her is familiar, though. "I don't know, I just know that she's…"

"She's what?"

"Something about her irks me." I sigh, unable to explain myself further.

"Whatever, Mia." Logan frowns, and presses his back against the door for us to exit. "I guess you can just judge someone without reason?"

"Please just shut up." I mumble, and follow him out of the building. I unfold the sheet of paper with my schedule, and read the list.

_7:10am - 8:45am Mythology Rm. 161 Professor Metis_

_9:00am - 10:35am Botanical Substances Rm. 152 Mr. Shepard_

_10:50am – 12:00pm Orchestra Rm. 110 Mrs. Borelli_

_12:10pm – 12:45pm Ancient Arithmetic Rm. 154 Dr. Larose_

_12:50pm – 1:30pm Lunch Cafeteria_

_1:45pm – 2:45pm Weapons Training Gymnasium Coach Minati_

_3:00pm – 3:45pm Prehistoric Pottery Rm. 132 Professor Lewis_

"What's your second period?" Logan asks.

"Botanical Substances." I reply shortly, and tuck the paper into my jacket pocket. "You?"

"Weapons Training." He murmurs. "Third period?"

"Orchestra."

"Ew." Logan grimaces. "Music isn't really my thing."

"I noticed." I mutter. "What's your third period?"

"Botanical Substances. Your fourth?" He replies quickly.

"Um, Math?" I shrug, unsure what 'Ancient Arithmetic' really is.

"A.A?" He asks, smiling playfully. I nod. "Me, too."

"Cool." I try to sound upbeat, but my voice deflates unhappily.

"You ok?" Logan frowns, studying me worriedly. I paste a weak smile on my face, and nod. "Don't lie, Mia."

I laugh bitterly at my horrible try to deceive him. "It was that unbelievable?"

"Yes," He smiles gently. "Don't ever be a politician."

This makes me laugh once again, and we continue walking towards the main stretch of classroom buildings. A small group of students chat by the doorway, their hysterical shrieks and groans empowering the sullen chirps of the surrounding avian wildlife.

Logan and I push through the lingering crowd, and enter the warm, brightly lit classroom building. We stare at one another awkwardly, each of us unsure what to say next.

"I guess I'll see you later." I finally murmur. "Thanks for…everything."

"My pleasure." He grins, flashing his straight, even teeth, which horribly makes my heart pound faster. "You have my cell?"

With a slight shake of my head, Logan pulls out a blue ballpoint pen, and reaches for my hand. I allow him to scribble his number on my palm.

"Later, Mia." He calls, and goes into his classroom. I wave slightly, and enter classroom 161.

I return to my dorm room after pottery, wet clay encrusted underneath my fingernails. Collapsing on my twin bed, I pull out my phone, and text Travis.

**Hey! ****J**** Just finished my classes. Give me a call? **

I send the message quickly, and decide to take a quick shower. I strip off my sweaty, clay-smelling shirt, jacket, and jeans, but leave on my dog tags. The metal name tags bearing my mother's name clang against my chest as I enter the shower stall. I turn the temperature to the hottest it'll run, and let the pounding scorching water rinse the exhaustion of the day off of my worn body. Not even bothering to use soap, I just stand in the ever coming rain, the stinging heat radiating off of my body.

When I can't stand the heat any longer, I shut the water off and wrap a cool towel around my dripping body. I rub the towel across my shivering skin, the water droplets disappearing into the cloth quickly. I rummage around in my drawers, and throw on a cropped periwinkle knit sweat and cutoffs, a simple outfit to last me through the night. My fingers expertly make a simple yet messy braid of my short hair. As I tug on a pair off ragged tan Uggs, my phone plays "Three Hundred Flowers," softly, alerting me Travis is on the other end.

I press the "Talk" button, and answer, "Hey, sweetie."

"Mia?" Travis's voice is rigid and serious, but I can't tell why. "Hey…how was your day?"

"Fine," I murmur, sticking my left foot into its corresponding boot. "You?"

"Um…it was alright." He stammers. He's lying.

"You want to tell me what's wrong, or do I have to ask?" I sigh, my words bitter and direct. Why was _I_ upset? And what was going on with _him_?

Travis snorts, and replies, "I was going to tell you either way, doll."

"Mmhm." I grunt, although a smile sets on my face. "So spill."

"It's…my mom." He murmurs. "She had a pretty serious stroke this morning."

"What?" I cry, eyes widening in shock. "Is she alright?"

"She's alive." Travis whispers. "She can barely move anything, though."

"Travis, I'm…" I choke, my anxiety and sadness rising in my throat. "What can I do to help?"

"Come home?" He offers, his voice wistful. My eyes water, but I don't bother to swipe the rising tears away. "I know you can't…I just wish…"

"So do I." I whisper. "So do I, baby."

"My dad came down from Connecticut to see her." Travis says, deliberately changing the subject. He knows it hurts both of us too much to even think of my return.

"That's great." I reply automatically. "You glad to see him?"

"I guess," He sighs, probably frowning. "I just wish it was under different circumstances, you know?"

"Yeah."

"I guess that's the only reason he'll come down, if me or Mom is in the hospital or some crap like that." Travis's words are bitter and full of anger. "Seems like that's the only way to get his attention."

I stay silent for a moment, unsure what to say in response. Should I agree or disagree? Both will keep him upset. I finger the dog tags endearingly, tracing my fingers across the raised letters of my mother's name. Louise May Davis. _Louise May Davis_. Her name runs through my mind frequently these days, especially when I wear her dog tags.

"Mia?" Travis's voice tugs me out of my mother-dream world, a place I escape to more than ever, since leaving home.

"Sorry." I mumble. With a glance at my clock, I unlock my door and exit into the hallway. "I better head to dinner, sweetie."

"Alright." Travis sighs. "Love you."

"Give your mama a hug from me, ok?" I whisper. "Love you, too." And with that, I shut off my phone.


	4. Chapter 4

I scurry down the stairs leading to the bottom level of the dorm house, and head outside towards the café for dinner. Louise stands outside of the cafeteria, her iPhone to her ear placidly. "Hello?" She says in a clipped voice. "Yes, it's me, Mother."

I politely push past her and enter the bustling cafeteria, large groups of students snuggling against one another at full tables. Gwen sits alone at our usual table, her long dark hair pulled atop her head in a messy bun. Her violet eyes flash at me kindly as she looks up from her murky bowl of soup.

"Hey, Mia." She greets, smiling politely at me.

"Um, hi Gwen." I say roughly, and slide in across from her. I bury my head in my hands, my scruffy still-wet dark brown bob covering my palms.

"You alright?" She asks, faking concern. No, I'm not ok, which she knows. I hate when people ask that. When my mother died, everyone asked me if I was ok when I was surely broken and torn inside. God, I wasn't ok. I was a damn mess.

"No." I retort sharply, an edge to my voice. "My boyfriend…his mother had a stroke."

"Oh…" Gwen murmurs quietly. "I'm so sorry."

I take a deep breath, so I don't reach out and swat her cheek. She didn't do anything, so why is she sorry? But neither did I, and I'm sorry, too. Deep breaths. Deep breaths. I suck in another long breath of air and nod my head. "I just wish I could be there for him, you know?" I feel myself croak, my voice growing weak with emotion.

Gwen is quiet for a moment, and then whispers, "Yeah. I know."

"How am I supposed to support him when I'm not even there?" I whimper, a tear threatening to spill down my cheek. Damn it. I'm not supposed to be crying. I'm supposed to be the supportive one, the one to help Travis. Not the one who breaks down because of _his_ problems. "She's not even my mother, but I'm sobbing over her. I'm a mess."

"No, no," Gwen cooed soothingly. "You're just being a good girlfriend. It's wonderful how you're so empathetic."

"Empathetic?" I practically spit. "I'm supposed to be strong for him! Not bawl at every crappy thing that happens to him."

"You're definitely strong right now." She laughs breathily, a frightened look in her eyes.

"Ugh." I groan, trying to apologize. "I'm sorry, Gwen. It's just so much…"

She nods, and grips my hand understandingly. As soon as her hand touches mine her eyes shut, and her body trembles. Crap! I pull my hand back quickly, almost as if in disgust, but I hate to think she saw…Well, maybe she didn't? Maybe she just saw a random thing.

"W-What…" I stammer, my own body trembling slightly. "What did you see?"

"She looked just like you." Gwen murmurs quietly. My heart stops beating for a moment, and I gasp. She saw. I stand up quickly, practically knocking over her open bottle of Dr. Pepper. I slowly step away from her and turn to run, but the biggest blockhead known to man stands in my way. I ram into Logan's chest and crumple to the sleek marble flooring.

My eyes open and close blearily, as I sit on the floor, and I let Logan gruffly pull me up. His mouth moves hurriedly but I can't hear him. His lips open and curve around my name, and I focus on him.

"Huh?" I blurt out, dazed and unsteady.

"Are you ok?" Logan asks slowly, his eyes wide with concern.

"Yes." I nod, and turn to leave.

"Mia, please-" Gwen begins, which only makes me storm out of the café.

* * *

I curl up on my bed, tears streaming down my cheeks as I finger the dog tags. She knew. It was all _my_ fault. My mother, my bubbly, energetic, caring mom, had been my best friend through everything: my father's death, my best friend's Faith's fatal accident, our Grandmother's passing, and even my refusal from Atherton. Then she'd been deployed. I'd been so pissed at her through those nine months I'd forgotten to worry about her, to persist about her health, to become depressed at her leaving. At her return, I didn't speak to her. She'd joke with me, kid with me, and mess with me to try and bring a smile to my lips, but it didn't work. And then one day, about a week after she'd been home, they took her. The Reapers. I'd been at my new friend Jorge's junkyard hangout, a place I'd come to rebel in the past months. It was my new refuge, and Jorge, my newest boy toy.

I never expected our fling to be anything else, but he did. As we argued, I didn't hear my cellphone ring off the hook, my chosen ringtone for her, _Leave Me Alone _by MJ playing nonstop. I didn't pick up, while she was at home, battling a Reaper. _All by herself_. She left me a voicemail twice, one as she hid, the other as she was dying. And I didn't even _bother_ to listen until I'd returned home to find her torn to pieces, her intestines splayed about our colorful New Orleans townhouse. _Why had I tortured her so? Why had I ignored the only person in my life who had always stayed by my side?_ I'd been such a naïve little brat. I'd taken her for granted, and then _poof_, she was gone. I didn't let them bury her with her dog tags, and Grandfather said it was fine for me to have them. For me, it was a reminder of my terrible mistake of ignoring the only true person who really love me. I needed it. To remind myself never to treat anyone I loved and cared about like shit every again. After the dreary funeral, I went to live with Grandfather in his 'southern belle' of a mansion outside the city.

Jorge didn't stick around to help me through the pain. Grandfather's regular fortune teller, Madam Laveux, and her son, visited me regularly to asses my 'aura' and all that mumbo jumbo voodoo crap, everything I did _not _believe in. Travis was comforting and understanding, having lost his actual mother, too.


	5. Chapter 5

Travis had told me continuous times to move on, and that my mother wouldn't want me grieving over her for the rest of my life. I had to move on, right? I remembered screaming at him after that, telling him I couldn't, because I had to tell her I was sorry, _so_ sorry. I would always be sorry, but could that bring her back? No. Nothing could. I couldn't let life knock me down and win. I had to get back up.

I sniffle quietly, seeing my mother's worn, frayed brown wool jacket and favorite _Estelle _t-shirt. She was a serious R&B Engle-file. Her always cheerful hazel eyes smiled at me warmly, and her wavy brown tresses flowed out behind her angelically. Suddenly, she doubled over, a knife protruding from her stomach, a gaping hole growing in her waist. And then another. And another. The holes grew wider and wider until they consumed her, her screams piercing my ears. I reached out, trying to save her, to hold her, to tell her I was sorry. But she dissolved in my grasp.

I sob violently now, the racking sputters and hiccups making my entire body tremble. My fingers tug at the metal tags bearing her name, the chain digging into the back of my neck painfully. I release the tag, and trace my fingers over her name once more. _Louise May Davis_. What had life been like for her that week? Hell on earth, with her only daughter ignoring her and treating her like crap? Or a whole other battle to deal with on the home front?

The soft chirping of my cell phone awakens me from my depressed-fest. I tap the screen gently to see a text from…Logan? When did I give him my number, if I even had?

**R u ok?**

Hell no, I'm not 'ok'. I furiously press the tepid keys and respond, **No. **

**Gwen told me what happened. **He replies quickly.

She would. After all, she was the clingy, sympathetic fake pale girlfriend of this doofus. **Oh? **I text.

**Yes. **Logan texts in response. **She can't control her "gift". Cut her some slack, will u? **

I snort at this. Like he can judge _me_. **Like u probably didn't react the same way when she first touched u. **

He doesn't reply for a while, and I know I've hit home. You don't judge me unless you've gone through the same crap I have, and that's a rule to live by. Unless you have natural instinct to judge like me, of course.

**Ur right. **How'd I know? **I did. But I got past it. Will you?**

**It's been less than 2 hours. Give me a break. **

**What did she see anyway? **Like I'm going to tell him? Wait… Gwen hadn't? She was a better friend than I'd give her credit for.

**Give Gwen an extra kiss for me, ok? **I text hurriedly, and shut off my phone. Wow. If I was her, I would've definitely told my boo all the juicy stuff I'd seen. Trustworthiness was definitely admirable in my book. My instinct had failed me.

I change into a worn out _Tinie Tempah_ t-shirt and blue polka-dot sleep shorts, and realize I haven't spoken to my grandfather in roughly 24 hours. Way too long from hearing his endearing New Orleans drawl. I'd have to call tomorrow. Grandfather was always in bed promptly at nine, so calling now wasn't really an option. I crawl underneath the covers, and tug the smooth cashmere blanket up underneath my chin. I close my eyes slowly, letting them droop in weariness.

As my alarm chirps, I slip out of bed quickly, not weary or tired at all for some reason. Not bothering to shower, I slip out of my PJ's and put on a gray tank top and plain acid wash skinny jeans. I toss on a black blazer and slick black pumps, my dog tags bumping against my chest as I stride out the door.

Louise and her gang stand by the elevator chattering squeakily. She glances my way for a moment, then smiles evilly. "Good morning, Mia." Louise coos.

"Hello, Louise." I remark civilly. "Excuse me; I need to get to the elevator."

"Wait," She responds, stepping in front of it. "Can we…talk?"

"Sure." I scowl, sweeping my growing bangs out of my eyes. "Your posse need to talk to me, too?"

"Yes." Louise replies coldly. "What _are_ you, exactly? I mean, since you're staying at Val you've _got _to have _some_ cash in the bank, right?"

"I heard your parents are billionares." One looming blonde groupie squeaks. "Is it true?"

"No." I practically spit. "My Grandfather's an entrepreneur."

"And your parents?" Louise inquires.

"Dead." I sigh, my lips forming a thin, grim line.

"What were they?" She asks, more gently this time.

"My mother was an Amazon, and my father was a Celt."

"Ooh, mutt." The blonde smirks. I brush past her and enter the elevator, my cheeks enflamed.

The doors slide open to reveal the bustling ground floor of the dorm house, and I exit the elevator quickly, not wanting to bump into Louise's clique again. Dammit. I should've known better than to answer their questions. I should've just shoved Louise out of the way and left. But I hadn't. Because I was stupid. So, so stupid.


	6. Chapter 6

I stride quickly out of Valhalla Hall, a seeming permanent flush battering my chocolate milky cheeks. Clusters of students are about campus, chatting, texting, or catching up on homework assignments due this morning, or possibly yesterday morning. A few of my classmates smile at me or wave politely, and I return it as best I can with what's happened. I slink into the cafeteria, but do not glance around for Logan and Gwen. I don't really want to see them, or talk to them right now, so I grab a tray of once again mushy oatmeal, granola bar, and OJ, and slide onto a bench at an empty table.

I shovel the oatmeal down my throat quickly, not wanting to linger in the café longer than I have to. Chugging my orange juice, I stand once again, and return my dirty dishes to the awaiting café helpers. As I turn away from the "dirty dish station", I see Gwen, her violet eyes glued to mine uncomfortably. I try to shift my glance, but her eyes return to mine. What is _with_ this girl? Knowing I can't escape this talk, I head straight towards her, wanting to get it over with.

"Mia." She practically whispers, her voice so quiet I can barely hear her. "I'm…"

"You don't need to be sorry about anything." I say shortly, my eyes still locked with hers. "_I_ am sorry. I'm sorry that I reacted like that, and I'm sorry you had to find out that way, and I'm sorry you have this _'gift'_. I am really, _truly_ sorry, Gwen."

My words spill out of my mouth quickly, words I never even thought I'd hear myself say.

Gwen's violent purple eyes water a bit, and she smiles at me adoringly. "You don't need to be sorry, either, Miami. You did nothing wrong. Nothing wrong yesterday, and nothing wrong with your mom, either." She murmurs soothingly. "Other people have definitely behaved worse."

"But…Gwen?" I feel the need to thank her, for not telling Logan, or any other nosy brat at Mythos. "I need to _thank_ you. For not telling anyone. Not even your boyfriend."

"Well," She grins sheepishly. "He doesn't need to know _everything_, right? Plus, I know I'd rather have any sob story come from the eye witness, not the relay in a line of chatty gossipers."

"I guess that's true," I nod in mute agreement.

"Yeah," Gwen agrees, and sits back down. "Met any new people yet?"

"Not really," I admit grudgingly. "Meeting people" never was one of my real strong points. "I mean, people in my classes at least know my name…I think."

She laughs softly at this, and continues. "Have you decided on any sports teams to sign up for yet?"

"I was thinking either fencing or swimming." I reply, sliding in beside her. "You do any sports?"

"Nah," Gwen shrugs. "Not really the athletic type, I guess."

"Well with Mister Meathead as your boyfriend I just figured…" I shrug back. "But it seems like you two really care about each other."

"Yeah," She whispers, her voice growing wistful at the thought of Logan. "Yeah, we really do."

"Awww." I felt the need to say, the mushy-ness almost breaking my heart. "Hate to interrupt the love fest, but do you know who I can talk to about swimming?"

"Coach Lir." Gwen replies automatically, her eyes still glazed over, and I know she's still stuck in the daydream.

"Great…well, I'll call you…wait. What's your number?" I ask her, pulling out my phone.

She rambles off her phone number, and then shuts her eyes, probably dreaming of becoming Mrs. Logan Quinn. Sweet yet disgusting at the same time. It seems like my annoyance with Logan will never end.

I wave goodbye to Gwen and head out of the café, spotting Logan and his two buddies, one a blond looking surfer dude, the other a dark haired exotic looking guy. Hot. I study the dark haired guy for a moment, and then remember Travis. Travis. Remember him, Miami? The guy you're in _love_ with. Yes. I'm in love with Travis. I'm _dating_ Travis. I am _off the market_. Right. But this guy's so cute…it'd be a crime not to know his name.

So I waltz up to Logan, smiling brightly.

"Hey, Logan." I smile, waving.

"Mia!" He grins in response. "You work out your…_thing_ with Gwen?"

"Um, yeah." I nod, and glance at his two friends. "Who're your buddies?"

"Oh, guys, this is Miami Davis, she's a 2nd year from New Orleans. Mia, this is Oliver," He motions to the surfer dude, who nods at me politely. "And this is Kenzie."

Kenzie. I stick out my hand, and shake first Kenzie's, and then Oliver's hand. Kenzie's dark, almost intoxicating dark chocolate eyes linger on my own for a second, a meager second, before he asks, "What brings you to Mythos?"

"My grandfather." I blurt, the words coming out accusingly, not the way I wanted them to sound. "He thought I needed to continue my "training.""

"Cool." Oliver nods, and excuses himself. "I have a meeting with Coach. See you guys later."

Kenzie's phone beeps loudly, and he pulls it out to check the large screen.

"It's Talia," He mutters. I glance up at him, not understanding. "My girlfriend."

_Girlfriend_. That one word practically kills me. But don't I have a _boyfriend?_ So why does it bother me so much? Because I'm feeling the strange feelings I shouldn't about another guy? Yes. That's exactly why.

I try not to let my face fall, so I remark, "Yeah, you better pick up. Hate to keep her waiting."

He smiles warmly at this, and steps away to answer. As soon as he's out of earshot, I let out an exasperated sigh.

"What?" Logan asks, clueless.

"He's taken." I mutter, adjusting the strap of my leather Gucci handbag.

"Aren't _you_?" He replies simply, eyeing me.

My face warms, but I shrug. "Girl's gotta have options."

"Sure." Logan mutters. I stick my tongue out at him playfully, and hurry towards the classroom building.

Professor Metis sits at her worn mahogany desk expectantly, a throng of students entering the doorway as I do. She smiles warmly at me, and I meagerly return it.

I sit at the empty desk I sat at the day before, and take out my textbook knowingly. The girl beside me, a Latina looking dark haired girl by the name of Calinda, smirks at me.

"Think you know Metis?" She murmurs, so quietly only I can hear her.

"Good morning, class." Metis greets, standing. Her bun sags this morning, her loose, wavy black hair springing out of the bun. She looks unkempt, to say the least. "I spent all night coming up with a wonderful pop quiz for all of you, so I expect you to do your _very_ best."

Calinda snorts, and I feel my face flush for the second time this morning.

Metis passes down the quiz papers quickly, but manages to stop by my desk and whisper, "Don't worry. You'll do great."

I actually relish in her encouragement, words I have not heard since leaving Grandfather. I pick up my pencil, and choose the answers that make the most sense, well at least to me. Some things I just don't understand, like Cronus eating his kids, true or false? Well, back in mythology, people did crazy things yeah, but eating your kids? Come on. My thoughts nag at me to choose true, which I think is wrong, but I still encircle it.

Professor Metis comes around once again, this time a blue fountain pen in hand. She scoops up my paper with practiced precision, something I must admire. Am I starting to…_like_ her? No way. It can't be. But I let myself smile at her genuinely this time, instead of faking it. Something about her seems so familiar…but I can't place it.


	7. Chapter 7

I leave the classroom, still feeling puzzled, but head to the office instead of Botany. The fair haired secretary smiles at me politely, and asks, "How can I help you?" in an oh-so-familiar Southern twang that pierces my heart.

"I'd like to sign up for swim team." I said quickly, feeling tears well up in my eyes.

"Sure." She nods agreeably, and pulls out the signup sheet. "I'll email Coach Lir with your name and phone number. Try outs are on Friday at the campus pool at six sharp. _Don't_ be late."

"Thank you." I nod, and scribble my name onto the almost full signup sheet. "Can I get a late pass, too? I don't want Mr. Shepard to mark me tardy…it's only my second day here."

"'Course." The secretary chuckles, ripping off a late slip from a worn pad. "How's Mythos so far?"

"Great." I lie, plastering another wavering smile on my face. "It's great so far."

"Lovely. I'm Miz Warren, and if you need anything at all, pumpkin, just ask."

"Thanks." I wave, and head to Botany.

I stride down the hallway quickly, not wanting to be late to Calculus, too. Mr. Shepard's face turned a bright pink when I entered class 5 minutes after the tardy bell, but cooled when I showed him the slip from Miz Warren.

Logan and I bump hips as we enter Calculus at the same time, each of us wedging against the doorway. I laugh at this, and slide into the seat beside him, which makes a lanky brunette scowl at me.

"Leader of one of your many fan clubs, I presume?" I chuckle, flipping my heavy, dark bangs out of my eyes. His face flushes slightly, and he shrugs.

"How am I supposed to know?" He whispers, his breath tickling my ear.

I laugh softly, and turn to face Dr. Lewis, who is glaring at us from the front of the room.

"Miss Davis, Mister Quinn. Is there something you'd like to tell the class?"

"Um…" I stammer, my face beginning to flush. "Just that the problem you were representing on the board was quite…interesting."

"Would you like to give me the answer, then, Miss Davis?"

"Yes, Dr. Lewis, I would." I nod, and pronounce the answer smartly.

Dr. Lewis nods, but her eyes lock onto mine, as if saying, _Yeah, you're smart, but I'm on to you. _

Who cared? New year, new school, new friends…_new guys_. Wait, scratch that. Yes new guys, but none I'd be flirting with. Just…Travis. He was the only one I needed, right? I pull out my phone eagerly, and read a single text from him.

**Ma is doing better. Miss u. Call me after class. **

I shut my phone just before Dr. Lewis arrives at my desk and can scold me for it. Her almost beady gray eyes narrow, and she thunks a new Calculus textbook down on my desk.

"Your textbook for the year, Miss Davis."

"Thank you," I reply coolly, and slump down in my seat. This'll be a _looong_ year.

Right after classes let out, I dial Travis's number, expecting him to pick up immediately, like usual…but he doesn't. On the fifth ring he answers a brisk, "Hello?"

"Travis, its Mia." I practically croak. "What's up?"

"Hey, sweetie." Travis's voice rises a bit, almost taking on a squeaky pitch. "Uh…"

"Everything ok?"

"Yeah, everything is fine…" He stammers slightly, and very unconvincingly.

"Mmhm." I grunt, my disbelief overtaking me.

"How've your classes been?" Travis asks, deliberately changing the subject.

"Great," I say quickly, and sit down on a worn stone bench. "I've been doing pretty well in Science and History, just have to work on Calculus, 'cause my teacher despises me."

He laughs breathily, almost nervously.

"Are you sure you're ok, Travis?" I ask once again. "You seem a little off."

"Um…yeah. My dad went back home, after he realized Ma wasn't dying or nothing."

"Oh…" I murmur quietly. "I'm sorry. I know how much you wanted to spend time with him…"

"Guess he didn't want to spend time with me." He mutters.

Was that really the only thing he wanted to tell me?

"How's everything at Blanchard?" I find myself asking, but I'm not really concerned about the happenings at our old school. Well, my old school. It's still Travis's.

"The girls are still rambling about how much they miss you." Travis chuckles. I feel my face flush, and smile at the thought of Genève, Lala, Missy, and Marie feigning how much they miss me. We were the "It" girls at Blanchard, something I'd never been in my previous public high school. Preppy, beautiful, and always bold Genève de Vergès, with her silky dark hair and tan, almost caramel colored complexion, she was the essence of beauty, well, Cajun beauty. She'd been one of my sole companions at Blanchard, her understanding of having lost her own mother a few months before mine, really helped me, just as Travis did. But Genève introduced me to serious New Orleans society, balls, plays, and usual high social gatherings.

For that, I'd forever be grateful for her. But sometimes, especially with nerdy boys or geeky girls, or anyone trying to one-up her, she could be especially catty. I had to remember to call her, and ask how she and her 'boyfriend', or as Gen says, 'boy toy', Henry, were doing.

"I miss them, too," I whisper, sadness welling up in my throat. "What's going on around school?"

"Well," He begins slowly, almost cautiously. "The usual autumn dance is coming up."

Crap. So this was what this was about. Another girl had probably asked him. It didn't anger me, just upset me that I couldn't be his date this year.

"A pretty lady ask you, yet?" I feel myself laugh, trying to sound good natured.

"Yes," Travis sighs.

"Say yes." I respond quietly. "We both know it's impossible for me to be there, and I don't want you cooped up alone on my account. I want you to have fun, even if it is without me."

"I did. Say yes, I mean." He replies shortly. This is what angers me. I thought he was calling to get my permission. But I guess he figured he didn't need it. I'm still his girlfriend after all.

"Oh." I practically snarl. "Wonderful. Who's the lucky lady?"

"Lala Monty."

I suck in a short breath of air and bite back the rising bile bubbling in my throat. _Lala_? _My Lala_? You have _got_ to be kidding me. With her curvy body, plump rosy lips, and tousled auburn locks, she was a definite catch, but she'd never let on having a crush on _Travis_. _My _Travis. Wow, I sounded possessive. But he _was_ mine, after all. _My_ boyfriend. _My_ boy toy. My…_everything_. This could not be happening. But it was. And there was nothing I could do to stop it.

"Cool. I hope you guys have fun." I mumble. "I have homework to do, so I'll talk to you later."

"'Kay. Later, baby." Travis says, and I shut my phone off quickly, not wanting to call him back.


	8. Chapter 8

I bite my bottom lip gruffly, and stand wobbly, my body threating to crumple to the ground in utter distress. And that's what I want to do. Just topple over in sobs, letting my tears console me. But I can't. I know I can't. So, I return to Valhalla Hall, my eyes on my slow-moving pumps, and I meagerly trudge to the sound, looming building.

A few girls chirp in the common room about their hot new Viking boyfriends, and their latest purchases at some chic boutique in town, but I don't want to hear their happy, naïve chatter, so I head straight for the open, awaiting elevator. But it's not open. Two scrawny looking vanilla boys whisper in hushed, reserved voices, and I have no choice to climb in with them.

I flash them a wan smile, and pull out my silent phone, praying for something from Travis, to reassure me that it's still me, I'm still his, and he's still mine. But that would be selfish. That wouldn't be right. That would be…impossible. There is nothing. I want to sob right there, in that dingy little elevator, with those gawking, scrawny, pasty guys gaping at me, but I don't. It's as if I have no more tears to waste.

The elevator door slides open, and I burst out, practically sprinting for my room. Finally, I insert my key in the lock, and step inside.

My room is eerily bright, and I gasp at the sight of trash bags and another set of luggage resting on the floor. Did somebody dump this in here? Why'd they put trash and luggage in my room? As I reach down to scoop the bag up, a petite, auburn haired girl enters the room.

"Um…" She frowns, her hand immediately flying to her hip. "What are you doing?"

"I could ask you the same question?" I reply tartly, and stand. "Is this your stuff?"

"Yes." The girl responds shortly, as if that is all the answer I need.

"And who are you, exactly?"

"Kayla." She eyes me curiously, her lips parted slightly in a knowing smirk. "Your roommate."

"Roommate?" I repeat, baffled. "I didn't _ask_ for a roommate."

"And I didn't ask for a snooping little –" Kayla begins to snap, but I hold up my hand to stop her.

"If you're my new roomie, why wasn't I told ahead of time?"

"Cause Mythos is crappy, that's why. I transferred to another school like this, and then came back. This was…_is_ my dorm. You're the new roomie."

"_Okayy_." I frown, and sit down on my bed. My eyes widen as they take in the other side of the room, another twin bed situated where my dresser sits. Sat. Where is my dresser? I glance around frantically, and find it situated casually underneath my posters. _That were moved_. Ok then. "Look, I'd appreciate if you didn't move my stuff."

"You mean crap?" Kayla scowls, and licks her chapped, plum lips. "I'd appreciate it if you left me half of the room like you're supposed to."

"Well I'm sorry," I snap, glaring at her pudgy, bloated face. "Like I said, I didn't know I was supposed to share."

"Whatever." She mutters, and throws a wrinkled pink quilt over her twin bed. I rest my head on my pillow, and pull out my phone once again. Inbox, empty. Empty, empty, empty. It's strangely fitting, because that's exactly how I'm feeling. Empty. I text Gwen, the only person who'll, _hopefully_, understand my dilemma. Or am I just kidding myself? I mean, boys will be boys. But I don't want a boy. I want a _man_.

**Bf problem. Need help, ASAP. **I text quickly, and shut my eyes, awaiting the beep signaling she's replied. One Mississippi. Two Mississippi. Three Mississippi.

Is her phone even on? I let out a frustrated, breathy sigh, and turn to face the wall.

"What is wrong?" Kayla asks, exasperated. "You're sighing like your boyfriend broke up with you or something."

"He didn't." I laugh heartlessly. "Not yet, at least."

Kayla smirks, and slips out of her plaid tailored blazer. "Boys, guys, men, are never worth it."

"I thought he was." I whisper, so softly I can barely hear myself. "It's just hard to do that long distance relationship crap."

She nods understandingly, and sits at the foot of my bed.

"If you're looking for a man, start here. We have a lovely inventory of tanned, six packs, if that's what you're looking for." Kayla smiles slightly.

I flash her a wan smile, and check to see if Gwen's texted me back yet. Inbox (1).

**Mimi! I miss u so much, bae! why havent u called mee? **

Genève!

**Omg trav was just talking to me about u guys. I miss u 2 G. hows u and ur bt? **I reply.

**Oh, henry & I have been done for like, forevs. Well, 2 days ago ;) found a new bt. Drake ****J**She responds.

**The tall one from English? Cutiee! **I text back. I'm unusually happy for her, but I'm unsure why. Gen's had tons of boy toys, usually lasting no more than two weeks or so, but she loved each and every one to the best of her glittery ability. **How r u guys so far?**

**Great, actually. We're going 2 the autumn dance 2gether. **

I suck in a deep, yet uncertain breath, and release the air back through my nostrils. I could never escape the sucking void the dance created. Happy. I'm supposed to be super happy for my best friend, who's super happy with her latest guy, who believes I'm happy with mine. But am I?

**Mimi? U still there? **Genève asks.

**Yea. **I reply slowly. **U know about Lala & trav going to the dance together?**

**Umm… **She replies, definitely uncomfortable where this is going. **Yea. She was desperate, since her break up w/ J.T. **

Joseph Turner, jock and heart breaker regular at Blanc. We'd all warned Lala not to get involved with him, but Lala was a sucker for love…of any kind. Would she turn into Travis's puppy dog, just as she had become J.T's?

**Ok. I'll call u l8r, I gotta head 2 dinner ****J**** luv u bae!**

**Luv u 2 baebae! **Genève texts hurriedly. I shut off my phone, and propel myself out of the bed. I glance at my watch, and scowl at the time. 7:23 already. I'd missed half of dinner. With barely 15 minutes left to eat, I scramble out of the dorm house, and sprint towards the lit café.

A few students linger among the practically empty tables littered with trays and used utensils, my eyes quickly scanning the throngs for my friends. Logan sits at a far table, a tan auburn haired girl standing beside him, definitely upset…about what, I'm unsure. I grab a meager bowl of supposedly Caesar salad, and slide in across from him, eyeing the yelling girl accusingly.

"Hey, Logan," I say, my words asking the question I cannot. _Everything ok here? _He gives me the briefest of nods, and turns to the girl, who's practically spitting, she's so angry.

"Logan, whenever you want to turn away from your harem or whatever you're running here, and be a man and _talk_ to me, do." She barks, spins on her Louis Vuitton heel, and slinks away. Well, more like struts.

"That's Savannah…" Logan sighs, resting his head in his hands. "My ex."

"_Oh_." I reply mutely, realization hitting me like a bomb. "Well, good luck with that…"

"I'll need it." He grunts, definitely frustrated. I take a bite of my salad, and wrinkle my nose at the heavily powdered cheese slathered over the lettuce.

"Do they like wash this lettuce in cheese or something?" I sputter, and lift my dainty napkin to my lips.

Logan chuckles, and takes a swig of his monstrous Deer Park bottle.

"Oh," I remember eagerly. "How's Coach Lir, for swimming? I'm signing up for the team."

"I dunno," He grunts, shrugging. "Ask Kenzie."


	9. Chapter 9

Kenzie? My heartbeat quickens hurriedly, and I look away for a moment, afraid I'll blush under Logan's scrutinizing gaze.

"Is he…on the swim team?" I ask, trying not to sound _too_ eager. But I am, and even you can't blame me. The guy is _gorgeous._

"Yeah." Logan replies, not indicating noticing my slightly rising voice. "Captain, now."

I draw in a deep breath of air, and smile subtly. "Cool. He can give me some pointers on my strokes."

"I thought you said your grandfather gave you lessons." He frowns, not understanding.

"He did." I say quickly, and sweep a tumbling lock of short, wavy brown hair out of my eyes. "I just haven't swum in a while, since coming here."

"Mia, you've been here for what, three days?" Logan's voice is skeptical, dripping with accusation and disbelief.

"I have to practice daily to keep up…" I supply, shrugging.

"Whatever." He mutters, and takes another long swig of water. "You should sign up for fencing, too."

"Maybe," I reply nonchalantly. "If swimming doesn't take up all of my free time."

Logan grunts in mock annoyance, and turns his head slightly, his eyes scanning the lingering crowd for something. No, not something. _Someone_. "Have you seen Gwen at all today?"

"Yeah. At breakfast." I supply, and slip another forkful of lettuce into my mouth. Once swallowing, I ask, "Why?"

"I just figured she'd be at dinner by now," He shrugs.

"Maybe she's working at the library?" I offer. Logan knits his brow in thought, and then shakes his head eagerly.

"No, her shift starts at 8:30 today." Logan retorts knowingly. He pulls out his phone, and skims his index finger across the screen, checking his inbox, just as I had done earlier. Wow, we were pathetic.

"Anything?"

"Just a text from Kenzie about training in the morning." Logan mumbles, and lets out a huffy, frustrated sigh. "Ajax's been on my ass since…"

"Since…?" I prompt, staring at him expectantly. He chomps down on his lower lips, and averts his eyes, not wanting to glance at my own piercing gaze. "Since what, Logan?"

"Nothing." He mumbles, and stares ahead at the wall behind me. I frown at him, and continue picking at my salad.

We sit in silence for a moment, our eyes glued to the scruffy wooden tables.

"Well…uh, I guess I'll see you later." Logan says, and stands up.

"Mmhm." I grunt, and shovel another heap of lettuce into my mouth. He smiles wanly, and exits the café. I chew the wilted lettuce thoughtfully, my thoughts conjuring Logan's reasoning for being so…so what? So weird? So reserved? Not like he owed me anything, but I don't like getting cliff-hangers. Why was Ajax upset with him? Had they had a falling out?

As I dump my tray and stride for the door, I notice more lingering eyes on me than usual. I turn slightly, to get a glimpse of them. Blonde heads, dotted with a few brunette and auburn. One appears to be getting closer, this one blond. I turn all the way around, and find myself face to face with her piercing blue-gray eyes.

"Hey," I find myself say breathily, the rest of my words caught in my throat.

"Hello." She replies coolly, her eyes looming over my neck. I instinctively finger my dog tags, and paste a cordial smile on my face.

"And you are?"

"Constance." Her lips turn upward in a knowing smirk, as if I should know her already. "Constance Chevalier."

"Can I call you Connie?" I say, trying to sound as innocent as possible. "Constance is so…formal."

"When I know your name, you can." She retorts smoothly. My smile deepens. I like her instantly.

"Miami." I croon, and sweep my bob off of my shoulders casually. "Miami Davis."

"Of New Orleans?" Her eyes light up with curiosity, and I nod. "My grandmother is Helene Chevalier. Perhaps you've heard of her?"

"Yes, she was a good acquaintance of my grandfather, Forestier Mathieu-Davis." I retort smoothly. "They attended many of the same operas."

"Grandmama always loved her Italian singers, though she could understand none of them." Connie laughs softly, her eyes clouding over slightly with remembrance. "Did you attend any?"

"No," I admit sheepishly. The haughty Italian singing was always too much for me. "I was usually at a friend's party or something whenever Grandfather went to the opera."

Constance nods politely, and then pulls out a slim envelope from her plush tan leather DKNY purse. "Here," She says sweetly, and places the envelope in my hands. "An invite to my friend Louise Prevost's annual Welcome Back party."

I feel my jaw widen, and instantly snap it shut. I lick my lips slightly, and reply, "Tell her I'll be there."

Constance smiles brightly, and leans closer towards me, her voice dropping to a meager whisper. "Be sure to have a date."

"Ok." I stammer, and bite my now-moist lips. "See you later, I guess?"

"Yeah." Her smile turns wan, and she remarks, "I'm in your Calculus class with Quinn."

"You're…" I stammer slightly, my face contorting in thought. The realization hits me a moment letter, and I remember her sitting in the front row, beside two other blonde girls. "You are!"

She laughs at this and says, "You'd never know, since Quinn seems to be the only one you have eyes for."

"We're both taken." I feel myself practically bark. "By other people."

"_Oh_." Constance murmurs, and looks at the floor.

"We're just friends," I supply quickly.

"Sure." She smirks, and pulls her purse closer to her chest. "See you in Calc, Miami."

"See ya." I mumble, and head outside. The brisk early autumn wind slaps at my cheeks, and I fold my arms to my chest, trying to keep myself warm. I take long, brisk strides toward Valhalla, and feel my face turn red from the cold.

On entering Valhalla, my body instantly warms, and I'm grateful for the ever running heater in the dorm house. A few girls mingle in the common room, but I climb the stairs hurriedly, wanting to take a hot shower, do my rigorous Calc homework, and crash.

Sliding my key into the lock, I push on the door, and gape at a vivacious Kayla making out with one of the scrawny guys from the elevator.

The scrawny guy pulls away from her immediately, and his face turns a dark, scarlet.

"Don't mind her," Kayla croons, and lets fingers trail along his chest. "She's just my roomie."

"I…t-think I better go." The guy stammers, and runs out of the room. I bite back a boisterous laugh, and smirk at Kayla.

"So much for a tan six pack." I say, and kick off my boots.

"That's not my preference in men," Kayla retorts coolly, and I'm shocked at her calm demeanor after having been found out by moi. "I prefer mine stringy and smart."

"Hmm," I murmur, raking my fingers through my hair smoothly. "Never expected you to be into nerds."

"Never expected you to care." She mumbles, and collapses on her bed. Kayla sweeps her long auburn locks off of her shoulder carelessly, and lets out a breathy sigh.

I bite back the words I know will result in a serious argument, and head into our shared bathroom, ready for a serious hot shower.


End file.
